The Firm of Girdlestone: A Romance of the Unromantic (Classic Reprint)

The firm of Girdlestone: A romance of the unromantic,

The Firm of Girdlestone

Produced by Lionel G. Sear

THE FIRM OF GIRDLESTONE.

A. CONAN DOYLE

TO MY OLD FRIEND

PROFESSOR WILLIAM K. BURTON,

OF THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY, TOKYO,

WHO FIRST ENCOURAGED ME, YEARS AGO, TO PROCEED WITH

THIS LITTLE STORY,

I DESIRE AFFECTIONATELY TO

DEDICATE IT.

THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE

I cannot let this small romance go to press without prefacing it with aword of cordial thanks to Mr. P. G. Houlgrave, of 28, Millman Street,Bedford Row. To this gentleman I owe the accuracy of my Africanchapters, and I am much indebted to him for the copious details withwhich he furnished me.

A. CONAN DOYLE.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER.

I. MR. JOHN HARSTON KEEPS AN APPOINTMENT.

II. CHARITY A LA MODE.

III. THOMAS GILRAY MAKES AN INVESTMENT.

IV. CAPTAIN HAMILTON MIGGS OF THE "BLACK EAGLE".

V. MODERN ATHENIANS.

VI. A RECTORIAL ELECTION.

VII. ENGLAND VERSUS SCOTLAND.

VIII. A FIRST PROFESSIONAL.

IX. A NASTY CROPPER.

X. DWELLERS IN BOHEMIA.

XI. SENIOR AND JUNIOR.

XII. A CORNER IN DIAMONDS.

XIII. SHADOW AND LIGHT.

XIV. A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING

XV. AN ADDITION TO THE HOUSE.

XVI. THE FIRST STEP.

XVII. THE LAND OF DIAMONDS.

XVIII. MAJOR TOBIAS CLUTTERBUCK COMES IN FOR A THOUSAND POUNDS.

XIX. NEWS FROM THE URALS.

XX. MR. HECTOR O'FLAHERTY FINDS SOMETHING IN THE PAPER.

XXI. AN UNEXPECTED BLOW.

XXII. ROBBERS AND ROBBED.

XXIII. A MOMENTOUS RESOLUTION.

XXIV. A DANGEROUS PROMISE.

XXV. A CHANGE OF FRONT.

XXVI. BREAKING GROUND.

XXVII. MRS. SCULLY OF MORRISON'S.

XXVIII. BACK IN BOHEMIA.

XXIX. THE GREAT DANCE AT MORRISON'S.

XXX. AT THE "COCK AND COWSLIP".

XXXI. A CRISIS AT ECCLESTON SQUARE.

XXXII. A CONVERSATION IN THE ECCLESTON SQUARE LIBRARY.

XXXIII. THE JOURNEY TO THE PRIORY.

XXXIV. THE MAN WITH THE CAMP-STOOL.

XXXV. A TALK ON THE LAWN.

XXXVI. THE INCIDENT OF THE CORRIDOR.

XXXVII. A CHASE AND A BRAWL.

XXXVIII. GIRDLESTONE SENDS FOR THE DOCTOR.

XXXIX. A GLEAM OF LIGHT.

XL. THE MAJOR HAS A LETTER.

XLI. THE CLOUDS GROW DARKER.

XLII. THE THREE FACES AT THE WINDOW.

XLIII. THE BAIT ON THE HOOK.

XLIV. THE SHADOW OF DEATH.

XLV THE INVASION OF HAMPSHIRE.

XLVI. A MIDNIGHT CRUISE.

XLVII LAW AND ORDER.

XLVIII. CAPTAIN HAMILTON MIGGS SEES A VISION.

XLIX. A VOYAGE IN A COFFIN SHIP.

L. WINDS UP THE THREAD AND TIES TWO KNOTS AT THE END.

THE FIRM OF GIRDLESTONE.

CHAPTER I.

MR. JOHN HARSTON KEEPS AN APPOINTMENT.

The approach to the offices of Girdlestone and Co. was not a verydignified one, nor would the uninitiated who traversed it form anyconception of the commercial prosperity of the firm in question.Close to the corner of a broad and busy street, within a couple ofhundred yards of Fenchurch Street Station, a narrow doorway opens into along whitewashed passage. On one side of this is a brass plate with theinscription "Girdlestone and Co., African Merchants," and above it acurious hieroglyphic supposed to represent a human hand in the act ofpointing. Following the guidance of this somewhat ghostly emblem, thewayfarer finds himself in a small square yard surrounded by doors, uponone of which the name of the firm reappears in large white letters, withthe word "Push" printed beneath it. If he follows this laconicinvitation he will make his way into a long, low apartment, which is thecounting-house of the African traders.

On the afternoon of which we speak things were quiet at the offices.The line of pigeon-holes in the wire curtain was deserted by the public,though the linoleum-covered floor bore abundant traces of a busymorning. Misty London light shone hazily through the glazed windows andcast dark shadows in the corners. On a high perch in the background aweary-faced, elderly man, with muttering lips and tapping fingers, castup endless lines of figures. Beneath him, in front of two long shiningmahogany desks, half a score of young men, with bent heads and stoopingshoulders, appeared to be riding furiously, neck and neck, in the raceof life. Any _habitue_ of a London office might have deduced from theirrelentless energy and incorruptible diligence that they were under theeyes of some member of the firm.

The member in question was a broad-shouldered, bull-necked young man,who leaned against the marble mantel-piece, turning over the pages of analmanac, and taking from time to time a stealthy peep over the top of itat the toilers around him. Command was imprinted in every line of hisstrong, square-set face and erect, powerful frame. Above the mediumsize, with a vast spread of shoulder, a broad aggressive jaw, and brightbold glance, his whole pose and expression spoke of resolution pushed tothe verge of obstinacy. There was something classical in the regularolive-tinted features and black, crisp, curling hair fitting tightly tothe well-rounded head. Yet, though classical, there was an absence ofspirituality. It was rather the profile of one of those Roman emperors,splendid in its animal strength, but lacking those subtle softnesses ofeye and mouth which speak of an inner life. The heavy gold chain acrossthe waistcoat and the bright stone which blazed upon the finger were thenatural complement of the sensuous lip and curving chin. Such was Ezra,only child of John Girdlestone, and heir to the whole of his vastbusiness. Little wonder that those who had an eye to the future bentover their ledgers and worked with a vigour calculated to attract theattention of the junior partner, and to impress him with a due sense oftheir enthusiastic regard for the interests of the firm.

It was speedily apparent, however, that the young gentleman's estimateof their services was not entirely based upon their present performance.With his eyes still fixed upon the almanac and a sardonic smile upon hisdark face, he uttered a single word--

"Parker!"

A flaxen-haired clerk, perched at the further end of the high glisteningdesk, gave a violent start, and looked up with a scared face.

"Oh yes, you do, Parker," young Girdlestone remarked, tapping hisalmanac sharply with the paper-knife. "You were playing odd man outwith Robson and Perkins when I came in from lunch. As I presume youwere at it all the time I was away, I have a natural curiosity to knowwho won."

The three unhappy clerks fixed their eyes upon their ledgers to avoidthe sarcastic gaze of their employer. He went on in the same quiettones--

"You gentlemen draw about thirty shillings a week from the firm.I believe I am right in my figures, Mr. Gilray?" addressing the seniorclerk seated at the high solitary desk apart from the others. "Yes, Ithought so. Now, odd man out is, no doubt, a very harmless andfascinating game, but you can hardly expect us to encourage it so far asto pay so much an hour for the privilege of having it played in ourcounting-house. I shall therefore recommend my father to deduct fiveshillings from the sum which each of you will receive upon Saturday.That will cover the time which you have devoted to your own amusementsduring the week."

He paused, and the three culprits were beginning to cool down andcongratulate themselves, when he began again.

"You will see, Mr. Gilray, that this deduction is made," he said,"and at the same time I beg that you will deduct ten shillings from yourown salary, since, as senior clerk, the responsibility of keeping orderin this room in the absence of your employers rests with you, and youappear to have neglected it. I trust you will look to this, Mr.Gilray."

"Yes, sir," the senior clerk answered meekly. He was an elderly manwith a large family, and the lost ten shillings would make a differenceto the Sunday dinner. There was nothing for it but to bow to theinevitable, and his little pinched face assumed an expression of gentleresignation. How to keep his ten young subordinates in order, however,was a problem which vexed him sorely.

The junior partner was silent, and the remaining clerks were workinguneasily, not exactly knowing whether they might not presently beincluded in the indictment. Their fears were terminated, however, bythe sharp sound of a table-gong and the appearance of a boy with theannouncement that Mr. Girdlestone would like a moment's conversationwith Mr. Ezra. The latter gave a keen glance at his subjects andwithdrew into the back office, a disappearance which was hailed by tenpens being thrown into the air and deftly caught again, while as manyderisive and triumphant young men mocked at the imploring efforts of oldGilray in the interests of law and order.

The sanctum of Mr. John Girdlestone was approached by two doors, one ofoak with ground-glass panels, and the other covered with green baize.The room itself was small, but lofty, and the walls were ornamented bynumerous sections of ships stuck upon long flat boards, very much as theremains of fossil fish are exhibited in museums, together with maps,charts, photographs, and lists of sailings innumerable. Above thefire-place was a large water-colour painting of the barque _Belinda_ asshe appeared when on a reef to the north of Cape Palmas. An inscriptionbeneath this work of art announced that it had been painted by thesecond officer and presented by him to the head of the firm. It wasgenerally rumoured that the merchants had lost heavily over thisdisaster, and there were some who quoted it as an instance ofGirdlestone's habitual strength of mind that he should decorate his wallwith so melancholy a souvenir. This view of the matter did not appearto commend itself to a flippant member of Lloyd's agency, who contrivedto intimate, by a dexterous use of his left eyelid and right forefinger,that the vessel may not have been so much under-insured, nor the loss tothe firm so enormous as was commonly reported.

John Girdlestone, as he sat at his square office-table waiting for hisson, was undeniably a remarkable-looking man. For good or for evil noweak character lay beneath that hard angular face, with the stronglymarked features and deep-set eyes. He was clean shaven, save for aniron-grey fringe of ragged whisker under each ear, which blended withthe grizzled hair above. So self-contained, hard-set, and immutable washis expression that it was impossible to read anything from it exceptsternness and resolution, qualities which are as likely to be associatedwith the highest natures as with the most dangerous. It may have beenon account of this ambiguity of expression that the world's estimate ofthe old merchant was a very varying one. He was known to be a fanaticin religion, a purist in morals, and a man of the strictest commercialintegrity. Yet there were some few who looked askance at him, and none,save one, who could apply the word "friend" to him.

He rose and stood with his back to the fire-place as his son entered.He was so tall that he towered above the younger man, but the latter'ssquare and compact frame made him, apart from the difference of age, thestronger man.

The young man had dropped the air of sarcasm which he found was mosteffective with the clerks, and had resumed his natural manner, which washarsh and brusque.

"What's up!" he asked, dropping back into a chair, and jingling theloose coins in his trouser pockets.

"I have had news of the _Black Eagle_," his father answered. "She isreported from Madeira."

"Ah!" cried the junior partner eagerly. "What luck?"

"She is full, or nearly so, according to Captain Hamilton Miggs'report."

"I wonder Miggs was able to send a report at all, and I wonder stillmore that you should put any faith in it," his son said impatiently."The fellow is never sober."

"Miggs is a good seaman, and popular on the coast. He may indulge attimes, but we all have our failings. Here is the list as vouched for byour agent. 'Six hundred barrels of palm oil'--"

"Oil is down to-day," the other interrupted.

"It will rise before the _Black Eagle_ arrives," the merchant rejoinedconfidently. "Then he has palm nuts in bulk, gum, ebony, skins,cochineal, and ivory."

The young man gave a whistle of satisfaction. "Not bad for old Miggs!"he said. "Ivory is at a fancy figure."

"We are sorely in need of a few good voyages," Girdlestone remarked,"for things have been very slack of late. There is one very sad pieceof intelligence here which takes away the satisfaction which we mightotherwise feel. Three of the crew have died of fever. He does notmention the names."

"The devil!" said Ezra. "We know very well what that means.Three women, each with an armful of brats, besieging the office andclamouring for a pension. Why are seamen such improvident dogs?"

His father held up his white hand deprecatingly. "I wish," he said,"that you would treat these subjects with more reverence. What could besadder than that the bread-winner of a family should be cut off? It hasgrieved me more than I can tell."

"Then you intend to pension the wives?" Ezra said, with a sly smile.

"By no means," his father returned with decision. "Girdlestone and Co.are not an insurance office. The labourer is worthy of his hire, butwhen his work in this world is over, his family must fall back upon whathas been saved by his industry and thrift. It would be a dangerousprecedent for us to allow pensions to the wives of these sailors, for itwould deprive the others of all motive for laying their money by, andwould indirectly encourage vice and dissipation."

Ezra laughed, and continued to rattle his silver and keys.

"It is not upon this matter that I desired to speak to you," Girdlestonecontinued. "It has, however, always been my practice to prefer mattersof business to private affairs, however pressing. John Harston is saidto be dying, and he has sent a message to me saying that he wishes tosee me. It is inconvenient for me to leave the office, but I feel thatit is my Christian duty to obey such a summons. I wish you, therefore,to look after things until I return."

"I can hardly believe that the news is true," Ezra said, inastonishment. "There must be some mistake. Why, I spoke to him on'Change last Monday."

"It is very sudden," his father answered, taking his broad-brimmed hatfrom a peg. "There is no doubt about the fact, however. The doctorsays that there is very little hope that he will survive until evening.It is a case of malignant typhoid."

"You are very old friends?" Ezra remarked, looking thoughtfully at hisfather.

"I have known him since we were boys together," the other replied, witha slight dry cough, which was the highest note of his limited emotionalgamut. "Your mother, Ezra, died upon the very day that Harston's wifegave birth to this daughter of his, seventeen years ago. Mrs. Harstononly survived a few days. I have heard him say that, perhaps, we shouldalso go together. We are in the hands of a higher Power, however, andit seems that one shall be taken and another left."

"How will the money go if the doctors are right?" Ezra asked keenly.

"Every penny to the girl. She will be an heiress. There are no otherrelations that I know of, except the Dimsdales, and they have a fairfortune of their own. But I must go."

"By the way, malignant typhoid is very catching, is it not?"

"So they say," the merchant said quietly, and strode off through thecounting-house.

Ezra Girdlestone remained behind, stretching his legs In front of theempty grate. "The governor is a hard nail," he soliloquized, as hestared down at the shining steel bars. "Depend upon it, though, hefeels this more than he shows. Why, it's the only friend he ever had inthe world--or ever will have, in all probability. However, it's nobusiness of mine," with which comforting reflection he began to whistleas he turned over the pages of the private day-book of the firm.

It is possible that his son's surmise was right, and that the gaunt,unemotional African merchant felt an unwonted heartache as he hailed ahansom and drove out to his friend's house at Fulham. He and Harstonhad been charity schoolboys together, had roughed it together, risentogether, and prospered together. When John Girdlestone was a raw-bonedlad and Harston a chubby-faced urchin, the latter had come to look uponthe other as his champion and guide. There are some minds which areparasitic in their nature. Alone they have little vitality, but theylove to settle upon some stronger intellect, from which they may borrowtheir emotions and conclusions at second-hand. A strong, vigorous braincollects around it in time many others, whose mental processes are afeeble imitation of its own. Thus it came to pass that, as the yearsrolled on, Harston learned to lean more and more upon his oldschool-fellow, grafting many of his stern peculiarities upon his ownsimple vacuous nature, until he became a strange parody of the original.To him Girdlestone was the ideal man, Girdlestone's ways the correctways, and Girdlestone's opinions the weightiest of all opinions.Forty years of this undeviating fidelity must, however he might concealit, have made an impression upon the feelings of the elder man.

Harston, by incessant attention to business and extreme parsimony, hadsucceeded in founding an export trading concern. In this he hadfollowed the example of his friend. There was no fear of theirinterests ever coming into collision, as his operations were confined tothe Mediterranean. The firm grew and prospered, until Harston began tobe looked upon as a warm man in the City circles. His only child wasKate, a girl of seventeen. There were no other near relatives, save Dr.Dimsdale, a prosperous West-end physician. No wonder that EzraGirdlestone's active business mind, and perhaps that of his father too,should speculate as to the disposal of the fortune of the dying man.

Girdlestone pushed open the iron gate and strode down the gravel walkwhich led to his friend's house. A bright autumn sun shining out of acloudless heaven bathed the green lawn and the many-coloured flower-bedsin its golden light. The air, the leaves, the birds, all spoke of life.It was hard to think that death was closing its grip upon him who ownedthem all. A plump little gentleman in black was just descending thesteps.

"Well, doctor," the merchant asked, "how is your patient?"

"You've not come with the intention of seeing him, have you?" the doctorasked, glancing up with some curiosity at the grey face and overhangingeyebrows of the merchant.

"Yes, I am going up to him now."

"It is a most virulent case of typhoid. He may die in an hour or he maylive until nightfall, but nothing can save him. He will hardlyrecognize you, I fear, and you can do him no good. It is mostinfectious, and you are incurring a needless danger. I should stronglyrecommend you not to go."

"Why, you've only just come down from him yourself, doctor."

"Ah, I'm there in the way of duty."

"So am I," said the visitor decisively, and passing up the stone stepsof the entrance strode into the hall. There was a large sitting-roomupon the ground floor, through the open door of which the visitor saw asight which arrested him for a moment. A young girl was sitting in arecess near the window, with her lithe, supple figure bent forward, andher hands clasped at the back of her head, while her elbows rested upona small table in front of her. Her superb brown hair fell in a thickwave on either side over her white round arms, and the graceful curve ofher beautiful neck might have furnished a sculptor with a study for amourning Madonna. The doctor had just broken his sad tidings to her,and she was still in the first paroxysm of her grief--a grief too acute,as was evident even to the unsentimental mind of the merchant, to allowof any attempt at consolation. A greyhound appeared to thinkdifferently, for he had placed his fore-paws upon his young mistress'slap, and was attempting to thrust his lean muzzle between her arms andto lick her face in token of canine sympathy. The merchant pausedirresolutely for a moment, and then ascending the broad staircase hepushed open the door of Harston's room and entered.

The blinds were drawn down and the chamber was very dark. A pungentwhiff of disinfectants issued from it, mingled with the dank, heavysmell of disease. The bed was in a far corner. Without seeing him,Girdlestone could hear the fast laboured breathing of the invalid.A trimly dressed nurse who had been sitting by the bedside rose, and,recognizing the visitor, whispered a few words to him and left the room.He pulled the cord of the Venetian blind so as to admit a few rays ofdaylight. The great chamber looked dreary and bare, as carpet andhangings had been removed to lessen the chance of future infection.John Girdlestone stepped softly across to the bedside and sat down byhis dying friend.

The sufferer was lying on his back, apparently unconscious of all aroundhim. His glazed eyes were turned upwards towards the ceiling, and hisparched lips were parted, while the breath came in quick, spasmodicgasps. Even the unskilled eye of the merchant could tell that the angelof death was hovering very near him. With an ungainly attempt attenderness, which had something pathetic in it, he moistened a spongeand passed it over the sick man's feverish brow. The latter turned hisrestless head round, and a gleam of recognition and gratitude came intohis eyes.

"I knew that you would come," he said.

"Yes. I came the moment that I got your message."

"I am glad that you are here," the sufferer continued with a sigh ofrelief. From the brightened expression upon his pinched face, it seemedas if, even now in the jaws of death, he leaned upon his oldschoolfellow and looked to him for assistance. He put a wasted handabove the counterpane and laid it upon Girdlestone's.

"I wish to speak to you, John," he said. "I am very weak. Can you hearwhat I say?"

"Yes, I hear you."

"Give me a spoonful from that bottle. It clears my mind for a time.I have been making my will, John."

"Yes," said the merchant, replacing the medicine bottle.

"The lawyer made it this morning. Stoop your head and you will hear mebetter. I have less than fifty thousand. I should have done better hadI retired years ago."

"My daughter will have forty thousand pounds. But it is so tied up thatshe can neither touch it herself nor enable any one else to do so untilshe is of age. She has no friends, John, and no relations, save only mycousin, Dr. George Dimsdale. Never was a girl left more lonely andunprotected. Take her, I beg of you, and bring her up under your owneye. Treat her as though she were your child. Guard her above all fromthose who would wreck her young life in order to share her fortune.Do this, old friend, and make me happy on my deathbed."

The merchant made no answer. His heavy eyebrows were drawn down, andhis forehead all puckered with thought.

"You are the one man," continued the sufferer, "whom I know to be justand upright. Give me the water, for my mouth is dry. Should, which Godforbid, my dear girl perish before she marries, then--" His breathfailed him for a moment, and he paused to recover it.

"Well, what then?"

"Then, old friend, her fortune reverts to you, for there is none whowill use it so well. Those are the terms of the will. But you willguard her and care for her, as I would myself. She is a tender plant,John, too weak to grow alone. Promise me that you will do right byher--promise it?"

"I do promise it," John Girdlestone answered in a deep voice. He wasstanding up now, and leaning over to catch the words of the dying man.

Harston was sinking rapidly. With a feeble motion he pointed to abrown-backed volume upon the table.

"Take up the book," he said.

The merchant picked it up.

"Now, repeat after me, I swear and solemnly pledge myself--"

"I swear and solemnly pledge myself--

"To treasure and guard as if she were my own--" came the tremulous voicefrom the bed.

"To treasure and guard as if she were my own--" in the deep bass of themerchant.

"Kate Harston, the daughter of my deceased friend--"

"Kate Harston, the daughter of my deceased friend--"

"And as I treat her, so may my own flesh and blood treat me!"

"And as I treat her, so may my own flesh and blood treat me!"

The sick man's head fell back exhausted upon his pillow. "Thank God!"he muttered, "now I can die in peace."

"Turn your mind away from the vanities and dross of this world," JohnGirdlestone said sternly, "and fix it upon that which is eternal, andcan never die."

"Are you going?" the invalid asked sadly, for he had taken up his hatand stick.

"Yes, I must go; I have an appointment in the City at six, which I mustnot miss."

"And I have an appointment which I must not miss," the dying man saidwith a feeble smile.

"I shall send up the nurse as I go down," Girdlestone said."Good-bye!"

"Good-bye! God bless you, John!"

The firm, strong hand of the hale man enclosed for a moment the feeble,burning one of the sufferer. Then John Girdlestone plodded heavily downthe stair, and these friends of forty years' standing had said theirlast adieu.

The African merchant kept his appointment in the City, but long beforehe reached it John Harston had gone also to keep that last terribleappointment of which the messenger is death.

CHAPTER II.

CHARITY A LA MODE.

It was a dull October morning in Fenchurch Street, some weeks after theevents with which our story opened. The murky City air looked murkierstill through the glazed office windows. Girdlestone, grim and grey, asthough he were the very embodiment of the weather, stooped over hismahogany table. He had a long list in front of him, on which he waschecking off, as a prelude to the day's work, the position in the marketof the various speculations in which the capital of the firm wasembarked. His son Ezra lounged in an easy chair opposite him, lookingdishevelled and dark under the eyes, for he had been up half the night,and the Nemesis of reaction was upon him.

"Faugh!" his father ejaculated, glancing round at him with disgust."You have been drinking already this morning."

"I took a brandy and seltzer on the way to the office," he answeredcarelessly. "I needed one to steady me."

"A young fellow of your age should not want steadying. You have astrong constitution, but you must not play tricks with it. You musthave been very late last night. It was nearly one before I went tobed."

"I was playing cards with Major Clutterbuck and one or two others.We kept it up rather late."

"With Major Clutterbuck?"

"Yes."

"I don't care about your consorting so much with that man. He drinksand gambles, and does you no good. What good has he ever done himself?Take care that he does not fleece you." The merchant feltinstinctively, as he glanced at the shrewd, dark face of his son, thatthe warning was a superfluous one.

"I like to know men of that class. You are a successful man, father,but you--well, you can't be much help to me socially. You need some oneto show you the ropes, and the major is my man. When I can stand alone,I'll soon let him know it."

"Well, go your own way," said Girdlestone shortly. Hard to all theworld, he was soft only in this one direction. From childhood everydiscussion between father and son had ended with the same words.

"It is business time," he resumed. "Let us confine ourselves tobusiness. I see that Illinois were at 112 yesterday."

"They are at 113 this morning."

"What! have you been on 'Change already?"

"Yes, I dropped in there on my way to the office. I would hold on tothose. They will go up for some days yet."

The senior partner made a pencil note on the margin of the list.

"We'll hold on to the cotton we have," he said.

"No, sell out at once," Ezra answered with decision, "I saw youngFeatherstone, of Liverpool, last night, or rather this morning. It washard to make head or tail of what the fool said, but he let fall enoughto show that there was likely to be a drop."

Girdlestone made another mark upon the paper. He never questioned hisson's decisions now, for long experience had shown him that they werenever formed without solid grounds. "Take this list, Ezra," he said,handing him the paper, "and run your eye over it. If you see anythingthat wants changing, mark it."

"I'll do it in the counting-house," his son answered. "I can keep myeye on those lazy scamps of clerks. Gilray has no idea of keeping themin order."

As he went out he cannoned against an elderly gentleman in a whitewaistcoat, who was being shown in, and who ricochetted off him into theoffice, where he shook hands heartily with the elder Girdlestone.It was evident from the laboured cordiality of the latter's greetingthat the new-comer was a man of some importance. He was, indeed, noneother than the well-known philanthropist, Mr. Jefferson Edwards, M.P.for Middlehurst, whose name upon a bill was hardly second to that ofRothschild.

"How do, Girdlestone, how do?" he exclaimed, mopping his face with hishandkerchief. He was a fussy little man, with a brusque, nervousmanner. "Hard at it as usual, eh? Always pegging away. Wonderful man.Ha, ha! Wonderful!"

"You look warm," the merchant answered, rubbing his hands. "Let meoffer you some claret. I have some in the cupboard."

"No, thank you," the visitor answered, staring across at the head of thefirm as though he were some botanical curiosity. "Extraordinary fellow.'Iron' Girdlestone, they call you in the City. A good name, too--ha! ha!--an excellent name. Iron-grey, you know, and hard to look at,but soft here, my dear sir, soft here." The little man tapped him withhis walking-stick over the cardiac region and laughed boisterously,while his grim companion smiled slightly and bowed to the compliment.

"I've come here begging," said Mr. Jefferson Edwards, producing aportentous-looking roll of paper from an inner pocket. "Know I've cometo the right place for charity. The Aboriginal Evolution Society, mydear boy. All it wants are a few hundreds to float it off. Noble aim,Girdlestone--glorious object."

"What _is_ the object?" the merchant asked.

"Well, the evolution of the aborigines," Edwards answered in someconfusion. "Sort of practical Darwinism. Evolve 'em into higher types,and turn 'em all white in time. Professor Wilder gave us a lectureabout it. I'll send you round a _Times_ with the account. Spoke abouttheir thumbs. They can't cross them over their palms, and they haverudimentary tails, or had until they were educated off them. They woreall the hair off their backs by leaning against trees. Marvellousthings! All they want is a little money."

"It seems to be a praiseworthy object," the merchant said gravely.

"I knew that you would think so!" cried the little philanthropistenthusiastically. "Of course, bartering as you do with aboriginalraces, their development and evolution is a matter of the deepestimportance to you. If a man came down to barter with you who had arudimentary tail and couldn't bend his thumb--well, it wouldn't bepleasant, you know. Our idea is to elevate them in the scale ofhumanity and to refine their tastes. Hewett, of the Royal Society, wentto report on the matter a year or so back, and some rather painfulincident occurred. I believe Hewett met with some mishap--in fact, theygo the length of saying that he was eaten. So you see we've had ourmartyrs, my dear friend, and the least that we can do who stay at homeat ease is to support a good cause to the best of our ability."

"It is a good cause," Mr. Girdlestone said, dipping his pen into theink-bottle. "'He that giveth'--you know what the good old Book says.Of course a list of the donations will be printed and circulated?"

"Most certainly."

"Here is my cheque for twenty-five pounds. I am proud to have had thisopportunity of contributing towards the regeneration of those poor soulswhom Providence has placed in a lower sphere than myself."

"Girdlestone," said the member of Parliament with emotion, as hepocketed the cheque, "you are a good man. I shall not forget this, myfriend; I shall never forget it."

"Wealth has its duties, and charity is among them," Girdlestoneanswered with unction, shaking the philanthropist's extended hand."Good-bye, my dear sir. Pray let me know if our efforts are attendedwith any success. Should more money be needed, you know one who may berelied on."

There was a sardonic smile upon the hard face of the senior partner ashe closed the door behind his visitor. "It's a legitimate investment,"he muttered to himself as he resumed his seat. "What with hisParliamentary interest and his financial power, it's a very legitimateinvestment. It looks well on the list, too, and inspires confidence.I think the money is well spent."

Ezra had bowed politely as the great man passed through the office, andGilray, the wizened senior clerk, opened the outer door. JeffersonEdwards turned as he passed him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Lucky fellow," he said in his jerky way. "Good employer--model tofollow--great man. Watch him, mark him, imitate him--that's the way toget on. Can't go wrong," and he trotted down the street in search offresh contributions towards his latest fad.

CHAPTER III.

THOMAS GILRAY MAKES AN INVESTMENT.

The shambling little clerk was still standing at the door watching theretreating figure of the millionaire, and mentally splicing together hisfragmentary remarks into a symmetrical piece of advice which might becarried home and digested at leisure, when his attention was attractedto a pale-faced woman, with a child in her arms, who was hanging aboutthe entrance. She looked up at the clerk in a wistful way, as ifanxious to address him and yet afraid to do so. Then noting, perhaps,some gleam of kindness in his yellow wrinkled face, she came across tohim.

"D'ye think I could see Muster Girdlestone, sir," she asked, with acurtsey; "or, maybe, you're Mr. Girdlestone yourself?" The woman waswretchedly dressed, and her eyelids were swollen and red as from longcrying.

"Mr. Girdlestone is in his room," said the head clerk kindly. "I haveno doubt that he will see you if you will wait for a moment." Had hebeen speaking to the grandest of the be-silked and be-feathered dameswho occasionally frequented the office; he could not have spoken withgreater courtesy. Verily in these days the spirit of true chivalry hasfiltered down from the surface and has found a lodgment in strangeplaces.

The merchant looked with a surprised and suspicious eye at his visitorwhen she was ushered in. "Take a seat, my good woman," he said."What can I do for you?"

"Please, Mr. Girdlestone, I'm Mrs. Hudson," she answered, seatingherself in a timid way upon the extreme edge of a chair. She was wearyand footsore, for she had carried the baby up from Stepney that morning.

"Jim Hudson as was, sir, he was my husband, the bo'sun for many a yearo' your ship the _Black Eagle_. He went out to try and earn a bit forme and the child, sir, but he's dead o' fever, poor dear, and lying inBonny river, wi' a cannon ball at his feet, as the carpenter himselftold me who sewed him up, and I wish I was dead and with him, so I do."She began sobbing in her shawl and moaning, while the child, suddenlyawakened by the sound, rubbed its eyes with its wrinkled mottled hands,and then proceeded to take stock of Mr. Girdlestone and his office withthe critical philosophy of infancy.

"Calm yourself, my good woman, calm yourself," said the senior partner.He perceived that the evil prophesied by his son had come upon him, andhe made a mental note of this fresh instance of Ezra's powers offoresight.

"It was hard, so it was," said Mrs. Hudson, drying her eyes, but stillgiving vent to an occasional tempestuous sob. "I heard as the _BlackEagle_ was comin' up the river, so I spent all I had in my pocket inmakin' Jim a nice little supper--ham an' eggs, which was always hisfavourite, an' a pint o' bitter, an' a quartern o' whiskey that he couldtake hot after, bein' naturally o' a cold turn, and him comin' from awarm country, too. Then out I goes, and down the river, until I seesthe _Black Eagle_ a-comin' up wi' a tug in front of her. Well I knowedthe two streaks o' white paint, let alone the screechin' o' the parrotswhich I could hear from the bank. I could see the heads o' some of themen peepin' over the side, so I waves my handkercher, and one o' them hewaves back. 'Trust Jim for knowin' his little wife,' says I, proud liketo myself, and I runs round to where I knew as they'd dock her.What with me being that excited that I couldn't rightly see where I wasgoing, and what with the crowd, for the men was comin' from work, Ididn't get there till the ship was alongside. Then I jumps aboard, andthe first man I seed was Sandy McPherson, who I knowed when we lived inBinnacle Lane. 'Where's Jim?' I cried, running forward, eager like, tothe forecastle, but he caught me by the arm as I passed him.'Steady, lass, steady!' Then I looked up at him, and his face was verygrave, and my knees got kind o' weak. 'Where's Jim?' says I.'Don't ask,' says he. 'Where is he, Sandy?' I screeches; and then,'Don't say the word, Sandy, don't you say it.' But, Lor' bless ye, sir,it didn't much matter what he said nor what he didn't, for I knowed all,an' down I flops on the deck in a dead faint. The mate, he took me homein a cab, and when I come to there was the supper lying, sir, and thebeer, and the things a-shinin', and all so cosy, an' the child askin'where her father was, for I told her he'd bring her some things fromAfrica. Then, to think of him a-lyin' dead in Bonny river, why, sir, itnigh broke my heart."

"A sore affliction," the merchant said, shaking his grizzled head."A sad visitation. But these things are sent to try us, Mrs. Hudson.They are warnings to us not to fix our thoughts too much upon the drossof this world, but to have higher aims and more durable aspirations.We are poor short-sighted creatures, the best of us, and often mistakeevil for good. What seems so sad to-day may, if taken in a properspirit, be looked back upon as a starting-point from which all the goodof your life has come."

"Bless you, sir!" said the widow, still furtively rubbing her eyes withthe corner of her little shawl. "You're a real kind gentleman. It doesme good to hear you talk."

"We have all our burdens and misfortunes," continued the senior partner."Some have more, some have less. To-day is your turn, to-morrow it maybe mine. But let us struggle on to the great goal, and the weight ofour burden need never cause us to sink by the wayside. And now I mustwish you a very good morning, Mrs. Hudson. Believe me, you have myhearty sympathy."

The woman rose and then stood irresolute for a moment, as though therewas something which she still wished to mention.

"When will I be able to draw Jim's back pay, sir?" she asked nervously."I have pawned nigh everything in the house, and the child and me isweak from want of food."

"Your husband's back pay," the merchant said, taking down a ledger fromthe shelf and turning rapidly over the leaves. "I think that you areunder a delusion, Mrs. Hudson. Let me see--Dawson, Duffield, Everard,Francis, Gregory, Gunter, Hardy. Ah, here it is--Hudson, boatswain ofthe _Black Eagle_. The wages which he received amounted, I see, to fivepounds a month. The voyage lasted eight months, but the ship had onlybeen out two months and a half when your husband died."

"That's true, sir," the widow said, with an anxious look at the longline of figures in the ledger.

"Of course, the contract ended at his death, so the firm owed him twelvepounds ten at that date. But I perceive from my books that you havebeen drawing half-pay during the whole eight months. You haveaccordingly had twenty pounds from the firm, and are therefore in itsdebt to the amount of seven pounds ten shillings. We'll say nothing ofthat at present," the senior partner concluded with a magnificent air."When you are a little better off you can make good the balance, butreally you can hardly expect us to assist you any further at present."

"But, sir, we have nothing," Mrs. Hudson sobbed.

"It is deplorable, most deplorable. But we are not the people to applyto. Your own good sense will tell you that, now that I have explainedit to you. Good morning. I wish you good fortune, and hope you willlet us know from time to time how you go on. We always take a keeninterest in the families of those who serve us." Mr. Girdlestone openedthe door, and the heart-sick little woman staggered away across theoffice, still bearing her heavy child.

When she got into the open air she stared around her like one dazed.The senior clerk looked anxiously at her as he stood at the open door.Then he glanced back into the office. Ezra Girdlestone was deep in someaccounts, and his brother clerks were all absorbed in their work. Hestole up to the woman, with an apologetic smile, slipped something intoher hand, and then hurried back into the office with an austere lookupon his face, as if his whole mind were absorbed in the affairs of thefirm. There are speculations above the ken of business men. Perhaps,Thomas Gilray, that ill-spared half-crown of yours may bring in betterinterest than the five-and-twenty pounds of your employer.

CHAPTER IV.

CAPTAIN HAMILTON MIGGS OF THE "BLACK EAGLE."

The head of the firm had hardly recovered his mental serenity after thepainful duty of explaining her financial position to the Widow Hudson,when his quick ear caught the sound of a heavy footstep in thecounting-house. A gruff voice was audible at the same time, whichdemanded in rather more energetic language than was usually employed inthat orderly establishment, whether the principal was to be seen or not.The answer was evidently in the affirmative, for the lumbering treadcame rapidly nearer, and a powerful double knock announced that thevisitor was at the other side of the door.

"Come in," cried Mr. Girdlestone, laying down his pen.

This invitation was so far complied with that the handle turned, and thedoor revolved slowly upon its hinges. Nothing more substantial than astrong smell of spirituous liquors, however, entered the apartment.

"Come in," the merchant repeated impatiently.

At this second mandate a great tangled mass of black hair was slowlyprotruded round the angle of the door. Then a copper-coloured foreheadappeared, with a couple of very shaggy eyebrows and eventually a pair ofeyes, which protruded from their sockets and looked yellow andunhealthy. These took a long look, first at the senior partner and thenat his surroundings, after which, as if reassured by the inspection, theremainder of the face appeared--a flat nose, a large mouth with a lowerlip which hung down and exposed a line of tobacco-stained teeth, andfinally a thick black beard which bristled straight out from the chin,and bore abundant traces of an egg having formed part of its owner'smorning meal. The head having appeared, the body soon followed it,though all in the same anaconda-like style of progression, until theindividual stood revealed. He was a stoutly-built sea-faring man,dressed in a pea jacket and blue trousers and holding his tarpaulin hatin his hand. With a rough scrape and a most unpleasant leer he advancedtowards the merchant, a tattoed and hairy hand outstretched in sign ofgreeting.

"Why, captain," said the head of the firm, rising and grasping theother's hand with effusion, "I am glad to see you back safe and well."

"Glad to see ye, sir--glad to see ye."

His voice was thick and husky, and there was an indecision about hisgait as though he had been drinking heavily. "I came in sort o'cautious," he continued, "'cause I didn't know who might be about.When you and me speaks together we likes to speak alone, you bet."

The merchant raised his bushy eyebrows a little, as though he did notrelish the idea of mutual confidences suggested by his companion'sremark. "Hadn't you better take a seat?" he said.

The other took a cane-bottomed chair and carried it into the extremecorner of the office. Then having looked steadily at the wall behindhim, and rapped it with his knuckles, he sat down, still throwing anoccasional apprehensive glance over his shoulder. "I've got a touch ofthe jumps," he remarked apologetically to his employer. "I likes to_know_ as there ain't no one behind me."

"You should give up this shocking habit of drinking," Mr. Girdlestonesaid seriously. "It is a waste of the best gifts with which Providencehas endowed us. You are the worse for it both in this world and in thenext."

Captain Hamilton Miggs did not seem to be at all impressed by this verysensible piece of advice. On the contrary, he chuckled boisterously tohimself, and, slapping his thigh, expressed his opinion that hisemployer was a "rum 'un"--a conviction which he repeated to himselfseveral times with various symptoms of admiration.

"Well, well," Girdlestone said, after a short pause, "boys will be boys,and sailors, I suppose, will be sailors. After eight months of anxietyand toil, ending in success, captain--I am proud to be able to say thewords--some little licence must be allowed. I do not judge others bythe same hard and fast lines by which I regulate my own conduct."

This admirable sentiment also failed to elicit any response from theobdurate Miggs, except the same manifestations of mirth and the sameaudible aside as to the peculiarities of his master's character.

"I must congratulate you on your cargo, and wish you the same luck foryour next voyage," the merchant continued.

"An excellent cargo, captain; very good indeed. Three of your men died,I believe?"

"Ay, three of the lubbers went under. Two o' fever and one o'snake-bite. It licks me what sailors are comin' to in these days.When I was afore the mast we'd ha' been ashamed to die o' a trifle likethat. Look at me. I've been down wi' coast fever sixteen times, andI've had yellow jack an' dysentery, an' I've been bit by the black cobrain the Andamans. I've had cholera, too. It broke out in a brig when Iwas in the Sandwich Island trade, and I was shipmates wi' seven dead outo' a crew o' ten. But I ain't none the worse for it--no, nor never willbe. But I say, gov'nor, hain't you got a drop of something about theoffice?"

The senior partner rose, and taking a bottle from the cupboard filledout a stiff glass of rum. The sailor drank it off eagerly, and laiddown the empty tumbler with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Say, now," he said, with an unpleasant confidential leer, "weren't yousurprised to see us come back--eh? Straight now, between man and man?"

"The old ship hangs together well, and has lots of work in her yet," themerchant answered.

"Lots of work! God's truth, I thought she was gone in the bay! We'd adirty night with a gale from the west-sou'-west, an' had been goin' bydead reckonin' for three days, so we weren't over and above sure o'ourselves. She wasn't much of a sea-going craft when we left England,but the sun had fried all the pitch out o' her seams, and you might ha'put your finger through some of them. Two days an' a night we were atthe pumps, for she leaked like a sieve. We lost the fore topsail, blownclean out o' the ringbolts. I never thought to see Lunnon again."

"If she could weather a gale like that she could make another voyage."

"She could start on another," the sailor said gloomily, "but as like asnot she'd never see the end o't."

"Come, come, you're not quite yourself this morning, Miggs. We valueyou as a dashing, fearless fellow--let me fill your glass again--whodoesn't fear a little risk where there's something to be gained.You'll lose your good name if you go on like that."

"She's in a terrible bad way," the captain insisted. "You'll have to dosomething before she can go."

"What shall we have to do?"

"Dry dock her and give her a thorough overhaul. She might sink beforeshe got out o' the Channel if she went as she is just now."

"Very well," the merchant said coldly. "If you insist on it, it must bedone. But, of course, it would make a great difference in your salary."

"Eh?"

"You are at present getting fifteen pounds a month, and five per cent.commission. These are exceptional terms in consideration of any riskthat you may run. We shall dry dock the _Black Eagle_, and your salaryis now ten pounds a month and two and a half commission."

"Belay, there, belay!" the sailor shouted. His coppery face was a shadedarker than usual, and his bilious eyes had a venomous gleam in them."Don't you beat me down, curse you!" he hissed, advancing to the tableand leaning his hands upon it while he pushed his angry face forwarduntil it was within a foot of that of the merchant. "Don't you try thatgame on, mate, for I am a free-born British seaman, and I am under thethumb of no man."

"You're drunk," said the senior partner. "Sit down!"

"You'd reduce my screw, would ye?" roared Captain Hamilton Miggs,working himself into a fury. "Me that has worked for ye, and slaved forye, and risked my life for ye. You try it on, guv'nor; just you try iton! Suppose I let out that little story o' the painting out o' themarks--where would the firm of Girdlestone be then! I guess you'drather double my wage than have that yarn goin' about."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? You don't know what I mean, do you? Of course not.It wasn't you as set us on to go at night and paint out the GovernmentPlimsoll marks and then paint 'em in again higher up, so as to be ableto overload. That wasn't you, was it?"

"Do you mean to assert that it was?"

"In course I do," thundered the angry seaman.

The senior partner struck the gong which stood upon the table."Gilray," he said quietly, "go out and bring in a policeman."

Captain Hamilton Miggs seemed to be somewhat startled by this suddenmove of his antagonist. "Steady your helm, governor," he said."What are ye up to now?"

"I'm going to give you in charge."

"What for?"

"For intimidation and using threatening language, and endeavouring toextort money under false pretences."

"There's no witnesses," the sailor said in a half-cringing, half-defiantmanner.

"Oh yes, there are," Ezra Girdlestone remarked, coming into the room.He had been standing between the two doors which led to thecounting-house, and had overheard the latter portion of theconversation. "Don't let me interrupt you. You were saying that youwould blacken my father's character unless he increased your salary."

"I didn't mean no harm," said Captain Hamilton Miggs, glancing nervouslyfrom the one to the other. He had been fairly well known to the law inhis younger days, and had no desire to renew the acquaintance.

"Who painted out those Plimsoll marks?" asked the merchant.

"It was me."

"Did any one suggest it to you?"

"No."

"Shall I send in the policeman, sir?" asked Gilray, opening the door.

"Ask him to wait for a moment," Girdlestone answered.

"And now, captain, to return to the original point, shall we dry dockthe _Black Eagle_ and reduce the salary, or do you see your way to goingback in her on the same terms?"

"I'll go back and be damned to it!" said the captain recklessly,plunging his hands into the pockets of his pea jacket and plumping backinto his chair.

"That's right," his grim employer remarked approvingly.

"But swearing is a most sinful practice. Send the policeman away,Ezra."

The young man went out with an amused smile, and the two were lefttogether again.

"You'll not be able to pass the Government inspector unless you dosomething to her," the seaman said after a long pause, during which hebrooded over his wrongs.

"Of course we shall do something. The firm is not mean, though itavoids unnecessary expense. We'll put a coat of paint on her, and somepitch, and do up the rigging. She's a stout old craft, and with one ofthe smartest sailors afloat in command of her--for we always give youcredit for being that--she'll run many a voyage yet."

"I'm paid for the risk, guv'nor, as you said just now," the sailorremarked. "But don't it seem kind o' hard on them as isn't--on themates an' the hands?"

"There is always a risk, my dear captain. There is nothing in the worldwithout risk. You remember what is said about those who go down to thesea in ships. They see the wonders of the deep, and in return theyincur some little danger. My house in Eccleston Square might be shakendown by an earthquake, or a gale might blow in the walls, but I'm notalways brooding over the chance of it. There's no use your taking itfor granted that some misfortune will happen to the _Black Eagle_."

The sailor was silenced, but not convinced by his employer's logic."Well, well," he said sulkily, "I am going, so there's an end of it, andthere's no good in having any more palaver about it. You have yourobject in running rotten ships, and you make it worth my while to takemy chances in them. I'm suited, and you're suited, so there's no moreto be said."

"That's right. Have some more rum?"

"No, not a spot."

"Why not?"

"Because I likes to keep my head pretty clear when I'm a-talkin' to you,Muster Girdlestone. Out o' your office I'll drink to further orders,but I won't do business and muddle myself at the same time. When d'yewant me to start?"

"When she's unloaded and loaded up again. Three weeks or a month yet.I expect that Spender will have come in with the _Maid of Athens_ bythat time."

"Unless some accident happens on the way," said Captain Hamilton Miggs,with his old leer. "He was at Sierra Leone when we came up the coast.I couldn't put in there, for the swabs have got a warrant out ag'in mefor putting a charge o' shot into a nigger."

"That was a wicked action--very wrong, indeed," the merchant saidgravely. "You must consider the interests of the firm, Miggs. We can'tafford to have a good port blocked against our ships in this fashion.Did they serve this writ on you?"

"Another nigger brought it aboard."

"Did you read it?"

"No; I threw it overboard."

"And what became of the negro?"

"Well," said Miggs with a grin, "when I threw the writ overboard hehappened to be a-holdin' on to it. So, ye see, he went over, too.Then I up anchor and scooted."

"There are sharks about there?"

"A few."

"Really, Miggs," the merchant said, "you must restrain your sinfulpassions. You have broken the fifth commandment, and closed the tradeof Freetown to the _Black Eagle_."

"It never was worth a rap," the sailor answered. "I wouldn't give acuss for any of the British settlements. Give me real niggers, chaps asknows nothing of law or civilizing, or any rot of the sort. I can pullalong with them.

"I have often wondered how you managed it," Girdlestone said curiously."You succeed in picking up a cargo where the steadiest and best mencan't get as much as a bag of nuts. How do you work it?"

"There's many would like to know that," Miggs answered, with anexpressive wink.

"It is a secret, then?"

"Well, it ain't a secret to you, 'cause you ain't a skipper, and itdon't matter if you knows it or not. I don't want to have 'em all atthe same game."

"How is it, then?"

"I'll tell ye," said Miggs. He seemed to have recovered his serenity bythis time, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke of his own exploits."I gets drunk with them. That's how I does it."

"Oh, indeed."

"Yes, that's how it's worked. Lord love ye, when these fust-classcertificated, second-cousin-to-an-earl merchant skippers comes out theymove about among the chiefs and talks down to them as if they was tinMethuselahs on wheels. The Almighty's great coat wouldn't make awaistcoat for some o' these blokes. Now when I gets among 'em I has 'emall into the cabin, though they're black an' naked, an' the smell ain'tover an' above pleasant. Then I out with the rum and it's 'helpyourself an' pass the bottle.' Pretty soon, d'ye see, their tongues getloosened, and as I lie low an' keep dark I gets a pretty good idea o'what's in the market. Then when I knows what's to be got, it's queer ifI don't manage to get it. Besides, they like a little notice, just asChristians does, and they remembers me because I treat them well."

"Well," the captain said, rising from his chair, "I'm getting a greatdeal too dry with all this palaver. I don't mind gettin' drunk withnigger chiefs, but I'm darned if I'll--" He paused, but the grim smileon his companion's face showed that he appreciated the compliment.

"I say," he continued, giving his employer a confidential nudge with hiselbow, "suppose we'd gone down in the bay this last time, you'd ha' beena bit out in your reckoning--eh, what?"

"Why so?"

"Well, we were over-insured on our outward passage. An accident thenmight ha' put thousands in your pocket, I know. Coming back, though,the cargo was worth more than the insurance, I reckon. You'd ha' beenout o' pocket if we'd foundered. It would ha' been a case o' theengineer hoisted on his own Peter, as Shakspere says."

"We take our chance of these things," the merchant said with dignity.

"Well, good morning, guv'nor," Captain Hamilton Miggs said brusquely."When you wants me you can lay your hands on me at the old crib, the_Cock and Cowslip_, Rotherhithe."

As he passed out through the office, Ezra rejoined his father.

"He's a curious chap," he remarked, jerking his head in the directionwhich Miggs had taken. "I heard him bellowing like a bull, so I thoughtI had best listen to what he had to say. He's a useful servant,though."

"The fellow's half a savage himself," his father said. "He's in hiselement among them. That's why he gets on so well with them."

"He doesn't seem much the worse for the climate, either."

"His body does not, but his soul, Ezra, his soul? However, to return tobusiness. I wish you to see the underwriters and pay the premium of the_Black Eagle_. If you see your way to it, increase the policy; but doit carefully, Ezra, and with tact. She will start about the time of theequinoctial gales. If anything _should_ happen to her, it would be aswell that the firm should have a margin on the right side."

CHAPTER V.

MODERN ATHENIANS.

Edinburgh University may call herself with grim jocoseness the "almamater" of her students, but if she be a mother at all she is one of avery heroic and Spartan cast, who conceals her maternal affection withremarkable success. The only signs of interest which she ever designsto evince towards her alumni are upon those not infrequent occasionswhen guineas are to be demanded from them. Then one is surprised tofind how carefully the old hen has counted her chickens, and howpromptly the demand is conveyed to each one of the thousands throughoutthe empire who, in spite of neglect, cherish a sneaking kindness fortheir old college. There is symbolism in the very look of her, squareand massive, grim and grey, with never a pillar or carving to break thedead monotony of the great stone walls. She is learned, she ispractical, and she is useful. There is little sentiment or romance inher composition, however, and in this she does but conform to theinstincts of the nation of which she is the youngest but the mostflourishing teacher.

A lad coming up to an English University finds himself In an enlargedand enlightened public school. If he has passed through Harrow and Etonthere is no very abrupt transition between the life which he has led inthe sixth form and that which he finds awaiting him on the banks of theCam and the Isis. Certain rooms are found for him which have beeninhabited by generations of students in the past, and will be by as manyin the future. His religion is cared for, and he is expected to put inan appearance at hall and at chapel. He must be within bounds at afixed time. If he behave indecorously he is liable to be pounced uponand reported by special officials, and a code of punishments is hungperpetually over his head. In return for all this his University takesa keen interest in him. She pats him on the back if he succeeds.Prizes and scholarships, and fine fat fellowships are thrown plentifullyin his way if he will gird up his loins and aspire to them.

There is nothing of this in a Scotch University. The young aspirantpays his pound, and finds himself a student. After that he may doabsolutely what he will. There are certain classes going on at certainhours, which he may attend if he choose. If not, he may stay awaywithout the slightest remonstrance from the college. As to religion, hemay worship the sun, or have a private fetish of his own upon themantelpiece of his lodgings for all that the University cares. He maylive where he likes, he may keep what hours he chooses, and he is atliberty to break every commandment in the decalogue as long as hebehaves himself with some approach to decency within the academicalprecincts. In every way he is absolutely his own master. Examinationsare periodically held, at which he may appear or not, as he chooses.The University is a great unsympathetic machine, taking in a stream ofraw-boned cartilaginous youths at one end, and turning them out at theother as learned divines, astute lawyers, and skilful medical men.Of every thousand of the raw material about six hundred emerge at theother side. The remainder are broken in the process.

The merits and faults of this Scotch system are alike evident.Left entirely to his own devices in a far from moral city, many a ladfalls at the very starting-point of his life's race, never to riseagain. Many become idlers or take to drink, while others, after wastingtime and money which they could ill afford, leave the college withnothing learned save vice. On the other hand, those whose manliness andgood sense keep them straight have gone through a training which laststhem for life. They have been tried, and have not been found wanting.They have learned self-reliance, confidence, and, in a word, have becomemen of the world while their _confreres_ in England are still magnifiedschoolboys.

High up in a third flat in Howe Street one, Thomas Dimsdale, was goingthrough his period of probation in a little bedroom and a largesitting-room, which latter, "more studentium," served the purpose ofdining-room, parlour, and study. A dingy sideboard, with four stillmore dingy chairs and an archaeological sofa, made up the whole of thefurniture, with the exception of a circular mahogany centre-table,littered with note-books and papers. Above the mantelpiece was afly-blown mirror with innumerable cards and notices projecting in afringe all around, and a pair of pipe racks flanking it on either side.Along the centre of the side-board, arranged with suspicious neatness,as though seldom disturbed, stood a line of solemn books, Holden's_Osteology_, Quain's _Anatomy_, Kirkes' _Physiology_, and Huxley's_Invertebrata_, together with a disarticulated human skull. On one sideof the fireplace two thigh bones were stacked; on the other a pair offoils, two basket-hilted single-sticks, and a set of boxing-gloves.On a shelf in a convenient niche was a small stock of generalliterature, which appeared to have been considerably more thumbed thanthe works upon medicine. Thackeray's _Esmond_ and Meredith's _RichardFeveret_ rubbed covers with Irving's _Conquest of Granada_ and atattered line of paper-covered novels. Over the sideboard was a framedphotograph of the Edinburgh University Football Fifteen, and opposite ita smaller one of Dimsdale himself, clad in the scantiest of garb, as heappeared after winning the half-mile at the Inter-University Handicap.A large silver goblet, the trophy of that occasion, stood underneathupon a bracket. Such was the student's chamber upon the morning inquestion, save that in a roomy arm-chair in the corner the younggentleman himself was languidly reclining, with a short wooden pipe inhis mouth, and his feet perched up upon the side of the table.

Grey-eyed, yellow-haired, broad in the chest and narrow in the loins,with the strength of a bullock and the graceful activity of a stag, itwould be hard to find a finer specimen of young British manhood.The long, fine curves of the limbs, and the easy pose of the round,strong head upon the thick, muscular neck, might have served as a modelto an Athenian sculptor. There was nothing in the face, however, torecall the regular beauty of the East. It was Anglo-Saxon to the lastfeature, with its honest breadth between the eyes and its nascentmoustache, a shade lighter in colour than the sun-burned skin. Shy,and yet strong; plain, and yet pleasing; it was the face of a type ofman who has little to say for himself in this world, and says thatlittle badly, but who has done more than all the talkers and the writersto ring this planet round with a crimson girdle of British possessions.

"Wonder whether Jack Garraway is ready!" he murmured, throwing down the_Scotsman_, and staring up at the roof. "It's nearly eleven o'clock."

He rose with a yawn, picked up the poker, stood upon the chair, andbanged three times upon the ceiling. Three muffled taps responded fromthe room above. Dimsdale stepped down and began slowly to discard hiscoat and his waistcoat. As he did so there was a quick, active stepupon the stair, and a lean, wiry-looking, middle-sized young fellowstepped into the room. With a nod of greeting he pushed the table overto one side, threw off his two upper garments, and pulled on a pair ofthe boxing-gloves from the corner. Dimsdale had already done the same,and was standing, a model of manly grace and strength, in the centre ofthe room.

"Practice your lead, Jack. About here." He tapped the centre of hisforehead with his swollen gauntlet.

His companion poised himself for a moment, and then, lashing out withhis left hand, came home with a heavy thud on the place indicated.Dimsdale smiled gently and shook his head.

"It won't do," he said.

"I hit my hardest," the other answered apologetically.

"It won't do. Try again."

The visitor repeated the blow with all the force that he could command.

Dimsdale shook his head again despondently. "You don't seem to catchit," he said. "It's like this." He leaned forward, there was the soundof a sharp clip, and the novice shot across the room with a force thatnearly sent his skull through the panel of the door.

"That's it," said Dimsdale mildly.

"Oh, it is, is it?" the other responded, rubbing his head."It's deucedly interesting, but I think I would understand it better ifI saw you do it to some one else. It is something between the explosionof a powder magazine and a natural convulsion."

His instructor smiled grimly. "That's the only way to learn," he said."Now we shall have three minutes of give-and-take, and so ends themorning lesson."

While this little scene was being enacted in the lodgings of thestudent, a very stout little elderly man was walking slowly down HoweStreet, glancing up at the numbers upon the doors. He was square anddeep and broad, like a bottle of Geneva, with a large ruddy face and apair of bright black eyes, which were shrewd and critical, and yet had amerry twinkle of eternal boyishness in their depths. Bushy sidewhiskers, shot with grey, flanked his rubicund visage, and he threw outhis feet as he walked with the air of a man who is on good terms withhimself and with every one around him.

At No.13 he stopped and rapped loudly upon the door with the head of hismetal-headed stick. "Mrs. McTavish?" he asked, as a hard-lined, angularwoman responded to his summons.

"That's me, sir."

"Mr. Dimsdale lives with you, I believe?"

"Third floor front, sir."

"Is he in?"

Suspicion shone in the woman's eyes. "Was it aboot a bill?" she asked.

"A bill, my good woman! No, no, nothing of the kind. Dr. Dimsdale ismy name. I am the lad's father--just come up from London to see him.I hope he has not been overworking himself?"

A ghost of a smile played about the woman's face. "I think not, sir,"she answered.

"I almost wish I had come round in the afternoon," said the visitor,standing with his thick legs astride upon the door-mat. "It seems apity to break his chain of thought. The morning is his time for study."

"Houts! I wouldna' fash aboot that."

"Well! well! The third floor, you say. He did not expect me so early,I shall surprise the dear boy at his work."

The landlady stood listening expectantly in the passage. The sturdylittle man plodded heavily up the first flight of stairs. He paused onthe landing.

"Dear me!" he murmured. "Some one is beating carpets. How can theyexpect poor Tom to read?"

At the second landing the noise was much louder. "It must be a dancingschool," conjectured the doctor.

When he reached his son's door, however, there could no longer be anydoubt as to whence the sounds proceeded. There was the stamp andshuffle of feet, the hissing of in-drawn breath, and an occasional softthud, as if some one were butting his head against a bale of wool."It's epilepsy," gasped the doctor, and turning the handle he rushedinto the room.

One hurried glance showed him the struggle which was going on.There was no time to note details. Some maniac was assaulting his Tom.He sprang at the man, seized him round the waist, dragged him to theground, and seated himself upon him. "Now tie his hands," he saidcomplacently, as he balanced himself upon the writhing figure.

CHAPTER VI.

A RECTORIAL ELECTION.

It took some little time before his son, who was half-choked withlaughter, could explain to the energetic doctor that the gentleman uponwhom he was perched was not a dangerous lunatic, but, on the contrary, avery harmless and innocent member of society. When at last it was madeclear to him, the doctor released his prisoner and was profuse in hisapologies.

"I must offer you a thousand apologies, sir. The fact is that I amrather short-sighted, and had no time to put my glasses on. It seemedto me to be a most dangerous scuffle."

"Don't mention it, sir," said Garraway, with great good humour.

"And you, Tom, you rogue, is this the way you spend your mornings?I expected to find you deep in your books. I told your landlady that Ihardly liked to come up for fear of disturbing you at your work. You goup for your first professional in a few weeks, I understand?"

"That will be all right, dad," said his son demurely. "Garraway and Iusually take a little exercise of this sort as a preliminary to thelabours of the day. Try this armchair and have a cigarette."

The doctor's eye fell upon the medical works and the disarticulatedskull, and his ill-humour departed.

"You have your tools close at hand, I see," he remarked.

"Yes, dad, all ready."

"Those bones bring back old memories to me. I am rusty in my anatomy,but I dare say I could stump you yet. Let me see now. What are thedifferent foramina of the sphenoid bone, and what structures passthrough them? Eh?"

"Then perhaps you can tell me what the structures are which pass throughthe foramina of the sphenoid?"

"Oh yes, sir. There is the--All right, Tom, all right! Excuse me, sir!He is calling me;" and Garraway vanished as precipitately as his friendhad done. The doctor sat alone, puffing at his cigarette, and broodingover his own dullness of hearing.

Presently the two students returned, looking just a little shame-faced,and plunged instantly into wild talk about the weather, the town, andthe University--anything and everything except the sphenoid bone.

"You have come in good time to see something of University life," saidyoung Dimsdale. "To-day we elect our new Lord Rector. Garraway and Iwill take you down and show you the sights."

"I have often wished to see something of it," his father answered."I was apprenticed to my profession, Mr. Garraway, in the old-fashionedway, and had few opportunities of attending college."

"Indeed, sir."

"But I can imagine it all. What can be more charming than the sight ofa community of young men all striving after knowledge, and emulatingeach other in the ardour of their studies? Not that I would grudge themrecreation. I can fancy them strolling in bands round the classicprecincts of their venerable University, and amusing themselves bydiscussing the rival theories of physiologists or the latest additionsto the pharmacopoeia."

Garraway had listened with becoming gravity to the commencement of thisspeech, but at the last sentence he choked and vanished for the secondtime out of the room.

"Your friend seems amused," remarked Dr. Dimsdale mildly.

"Yes. He gets taken like that sometimes," said his son. "His brothersare just the same. I have hardly had a chance yet to say how glad I amto see you, dad."

"And I to see you, my dear boy. Your mother and Kate come up by thenight train. I have private rooms at the hotel."

"Kate Harston! I can only remember her as a little quiet girl with longbrown hair. That was six years ago. She promised to be pretty."

"Then she has fulfilled her promise. But you shall judge that foryourself. She is the ward of John Girdlestone, the African merchant,but we are the only relations she has upon earth. Her father was mysecond cousin. She spends a good deal of her time now with us atPhillimore Gardens--as much as her guardian will allow. He prefers tohave her under his own roof, and I don't blame him, for she is like aray of sunshine in the house. It was like drawing his teeth to get himto consent to this little holiday, but I stuck at it until I wearied himout--fairly wearied him out." The little doctor chuckled at the thoughtof his victory, and stretched out his thick legs towards the fire.

"This examination will prevent me from being with you as much as Iwish."

"That's right, my boy; let nothing interfere with your work."

"Still, I think I am pretty safe. I am glad they have come now, fornext Wednesday is the international football match. Garraway and I arethe two Scotch half-backs. You must all come down and see it."

"I'll tell you what, Dimsdale," said Garraway, reappearing in thedoorway, "if we don't hurry up we shall see nothing of the election.It is close on twelve."

"Let us be off, then," said his son; and picking up hats and sticks theyclattered off down the lodging-house stairs.

A rectorial election is a peculiarly Scotch institution, and, however itmay strike the impartial observer, it is regarded by the studentsthemselves as a rite of extreme solemnity and importance from whichgrave issues may depend. To hear the speeches and addresses of rivalorators one would suppose that the integrity of the constitution and thevery existence of the empire hung upon the return of their specialnominee. Two candidates are chosen from the most eminent of eitherparty and a day is fixed for the polling. Every undergraduate has avote, but the professors have no voice in the matter. As the duties arenominal and the position honourable, there is never any lack ofdistinguished aspirants for a vacancy. Occasionally some well-knownliterary or scientific man is invited to become a candidate, but as arule the election is fought upon strictly political lines, with all theold-fashioned accompaniments of a Parliamentary contest.

For months before the great day there is bustle and stir. Secretcommittees meet, rules are formulated, and insidious agents prowl aboutwith an eye to the political training of those who have not yet nailedtheir colours to any particular mast. Then comes a grand meeting of theLiberal Students' Association, which is trumped by a dinner of theUndergraduates' Conservative Society. The campaign is then in fullswing. Great boards appear at the University gates, on which pithysatires against one or other candidate, parodies on songs, quotationsfrom their speeches, and gaudily painted cartoons are posted. Those whoare supposed to be able to feel the pulse of the University move aboutwith the weight of much knowledge upon their brows, throwing out hintsas to the probable majority one way or the other. Some profess to knowit to a nicety. Others shake their heads and remark vaguely that thereis not much to choose either way. So week after week goes by, until theexcitement reaches a climax when the date of the election comes round.

There was no need upon that day for Dr. Dimsdale or any other strangerin the town to ask his way to the University, for the whooping andyelling which proceeded from that usually decorous building might havebeen heard from Prince's Street to Newington. In front of the gates wasa dense crowd of townspeople peering through into the quadrangle, andderiving much entertainment from the movements of the lively younggentlemen within. Large numbers of the more peaceable undergraduatesstood about under the arches, and these quickly made a way for thenewcomers, for both Garraway and Dimsdale as noted athletes commanded arespect among their fellow-students which medallists and honours menmight look for in vain.

The broad open quadrangle, and all the numerous balconies and terraceswhich surround it, were crowded with an excited mob of students. Thewhole three thousand odd electors who stand upon the college rollsappeared to be present, and the noise which they were making would havereflected credit on treble their number. The dense crowd surged andseethed without pause or rest. Now and again some orator would behoisted up on the shoulders of his fellows, when an oscillation of thecrowd would remove his supporters and down he would come, only to besucceeded by another at some other part of the assembly. The name ofeither candidate would produce roars of applause and equally vigoroushowls of execration. Those who were lucky enough to be in the balconiesabove hurled down missiles on the crowd beneath--peas, eggs, potatoes,and bags of flour or of sulphur; while those below, wherever they foundroom to swing an arm, returned the fusillade with interest.The doctor's views of academical serenity and the high converse ofpallid students vanished into thin air as he gazed upon the madtumultuous scene. Yet, in spite of his fifty years, he laughed asheartily as any boy at the wild pranks of the young politicians, and theruin which was wrought upon broad-cloth coat and shooting jacket by thehail of unsavoury projectiles.

The crowd was most dense and most noisy in front of the class-room inwhich the counting of the votes was going forward. At one the resultwas to be announced, and as the long hand of the great clock crepttowards the hour, a hush of expectation fell upon the assembly.The brazen clang broke harshly out, and at the same moment the foldingdoors were flung open, and a knot of men rushed out into the crowd, whoswirled and eddied round them. The centre of the throng was violentlyagitated, and the whole mass of people swayed outwards and inwards.For a minute or two the excited combatants seethed and struggled withouta clue as to the cause of the commotion. Then the corner of a largeplacard was elevated above the heads of the rioters, on which wasvisible the word "Liberal" in great letters, but before it could beraised further it was torn down, and the struggle became fiercer thanever. Up came the placard again--the other corner this time--with theword "Majority" upon it, and then immediately vanished as before.Enough had been seen, however, to show which way the victory had gone,and shouts of triumph arose everywhere, with waving of hats and clatterof sticks. Meanwhile, in the centre the two parties fought round theplacard, and the commotion began to cover a wider area, as either sidewas reinforced by fresh supporters. One gigantic Liberal seized theboard, and held it aloft for a moment, so that it could be seen in itsentirety by the whole multitude:

LIBERAL MAJORITY,

241.

But his triumph was short-lived. A stick descended upon his head, hisheels were tripped up, and he and his placard rolled upon the groundtogether. The victors succeeded, however, in forcing their way to theextreme end of the quadrangle, where, as every Edinburgh man knows, thefull-length statue of Sir David Brewster looks down upon the classicground which he loved so well. An audacious Radical swarmed up upon thepedestal and balanced the obnoxious notice on the marble arms of theprofessor. Thus converted into a political partisan, the reveredinventor of the kaleidoscope became the centre of a furious struggle,the vanquished politicians making the most desperate efforts to destroythe symbol of their opponents' victory, while the others offered anequally vigorous resistance to their attacks. The struggle was stillproceeding when Dimsdale removed his father, for it was impossible tosay what form the riot might assume.

"What Goths! what barbarians!" cried the little doctor, as they walkeddown the Bridges. "And this is my dream of refined quiet and studiousrepose!"

"They are not always like that, sir," said his son apologetically."They were certainly a little jolly to-day."

"A little jolly!" cried the doctor. "You rogue, Tom. I believe if Ihad not been there you would have been their ringleader."

He glanced from one to the other, and it was so evident from theexpression of their faces that he had just hit the mark, that he burstinto a great guffaw of laughter, in which, after a moment's hesitation,his two young companions heartily joined.

CHAPTER VII.

ENGLAND VERSUS SCOTLAND.

The rectorial election had come and had gone, but another great eventhad taken its place. It was the day of the England and Scotland Rugbymatch.

Better weather could not have been desired. The morning had been hazy,but as the sun shone out the fog had gradually risen, until now thereremained but a suspicion of it, floating like a plume, above thefrowning walls of Edinburgh Castle, and twining a fairy wreath round theunfinished columns of the national monument upon the Calton Hill.The broad stretch of the Prince's Street Gardens, which occupy thevalley between the old town and the new, looked green and spring-like,and their fountains sparkled merrily in the sunshine. Their wideexpanse, well-trimmed and bepathed, formed a strange contrast to therugged piles of grim old houses which bounded them upon the other sideand the massive grandeur of the great hill beyond, which lies like acrouching lion keeping watch and ward, day and night, over the ancientcapital of the Scottish kings. Travellers who have searched the wholeworld round have found no fairer view.

So thought three of the genus who were ensconced that forenoon in thebow windows of the _Royal Hotel_ and gazed across the bright greenvalley at the dull historical background beyond. One we already know, astoutish gentleman, ruddy-faced and black-eyed, with check trousers,light waistcoat and heavy chain, legs widely parted, his hands in hispockets, and on his face that expression of irreverent and criticalapproval with which the travelled Briton usually regards the works ofnature. By his side was a young lady in a tight-fitting travellingdress, with trim leather belt and snow-white collar and cuffs.There was no criticism in her sweet face, now flushed with excitement--nothing but unqualified wonder and admiration at the beautiful scenebefore her. An elderly placid-faced woman sat in a basket chair in therecess, and looked up with quiet loving eyes at the swift play ofemotions which swept over the girl's eager features.

"Oh, Uncle George," she cried, "it is really too heavenly. I cannotrealize that we are free. I can't help fearing that it is all a dream,and that I shall wake up to find myself pouring out Ezra Girdlestone'scoffee, or listening to Mr. Girdlestone as he reads the morningquotations."

The elder woman stroked the girl's hand caressingly with her soft,motherly palm. "Don't think about it," she murmured.

"No, don't think about it," echoed the doctor. "My wife is quite right.Don't think about it. But, dear me, what a job I had to persuade yourguardian to let you go. I should have given it up in despair--I reallyshould--if I had not known that you had set your heart upon it."

"Oh, how good you both are to me!" cried the girl, in a pretty littlegush of gratitude.

"Pooh, pooh, Kate! But as to Girdlestone, he is perfectly right. If Ihad you I should keep you fast to myself, I promise you. Eh, Matilda?"

"That we would, George."

"Perfect tyrants, both of us. Eh, Matilda?"

"Yes, George."

"I am afraid that I am not very useful in a household," said the girl."I was too young to look after things for poor papa. Mr. Girdlestone,of course, has a housekeeper of his own. I read the _Financial News_ tohim after dinner every day, and I know all about stock and Consols andthose American railways which are perpetually rising and falling. Oneof them went wrong last week, and Ezra swore, and Mr. Girdlestone saidthat the Lord chastens those whom He loves. He did not seem to likebeing chastened a bit though. But how delightful this is! It is likeliving in another world."

The girl was a pretty figure as she stood in the window, tall, lithe,and graceful, with the long soft curves of budding womanhood. Her facewas sweet rather than beautiful, but an artist would have revelled inthe delicate strength of the softly rounded chin, and the quick brightplay of her expression. Her hair, of a deep rich brown, with a bronzeshimmer where a sunbeam lay athwart it, swept back in those thickluxuriant coils which are the unfailing index of a strong womanlynature. Her deep blue eyes danced with life and light, while herslightly _retrousse_ nose and her sensitive smiling mouth all spoke ofgentle good humour. From her sunny face to the dainty little shoewhich peeped from under the trim black skirt, she was an eminentlypleasant object to look upon. So thought the passers-by as they glancedup at the great bow window, and so, too, thought a young gentleman whohad driven up to the hotel door, and who now bounded up the steps andinto the room. He was enveloped in a long shaggy ulster, whichstretched down to his ankles, and he wore a velvet cap trimmed withsilver stuck carelessly on the back of his powerful yellow curled head.

"Here is the boy!" cried his mother gaily.

"How are you, mam dear?" he cried, stooping over her to kiss her."How are you, dad? Good morning, Cousin Kate. You must come down andwish us luck. What a blessing that it is pretty warm. It is miserablefor the spectators when there is an east wind. What do you think of it,dad?"

"I think you are an unnatural young renegade to play against your mothercountry," said the sturdy doctor.

"Oh, come, dad! I was born in Scotland, and I belong to a Scotch club.Surely that is good enough."

"I hope you lose, then."

"We are very likely to. Atkinson, of the West of Scotland, has strainedhis leg, and we shall have to play Blair, of the Institution, at fullback--not so good a man by a long way. The odds are five to four on theEnglish this morning. They are said to be the very strongest lot thatever played in an International match. I have brought a cab with me, sothe moment you are ready we can start."

There were others besides the students who were excited about the comingstruggle. All Edinburgh was in a ferment. Football is, and always hasbeen, the national game of Scotland among those who affect violentexercise, while golf takes its place with the more sedately inclined.There is no game so fitted to appeal to a hardy and active people asthat composite exercise prescribed by the Rugby Union, in which fifteenmen pit strength, speed, endurance, and every manly attribute theypossess in a prolonged struggle against fifteen antagonists. There isno room for mere knack or trickery. It is a fierce personal contest inwhich the ball is the central rallying point. That ball may be kicked,pushed, or carried; it may be forced onwards in any conceivable mannertowards the enemy's goal. The fleet of foot may seize it and bysuperior speed thread their way through the ranks of their opponents.The heavy of frame may crush down all opposition by dead weight. Thehardiest and most enduring must win.

Even matches between prominent local clubs excite much interest inEdinburgh and attract crowds of spectators. How much more then when thepick of the manhood of Scotland were to try their strength against thevery cream of the players from the South of the Tweed. The roads whichconverged on the Raeburn Place Grounds, on which the match was to beplayed, were dark with thousands all wending their way in one direction.So thick was the moving mass that the carriage of the Dimsdale party hadto go at a walk for the latter half of the journey, In spite of theobjurgations of the driver, who, as a patriot, felt the responsibilitywhich rested upon him in having one of the team in his charge, and thenecessity there was for delivering him up by the appointed time.